let nice things go
by WhisperedSilvers
Summary: The whiskey had failed to warm her. —Shisui/Sakura ; Itachi/Sakura. Drabble.


**title:** let nice things go

 **by:** whisperedsilvers

 **tumblr request:** "Tell me what to do."

 **summary:** the whiskey had failed to warm her.

* * *

Sometime between one and three did Sakura feel the sharp crackle of reality settle over her veins. Alcohol had kept emotions out of the mix, just for a little while, but it came back when the fuzziness of real-life touched her fingertips.

"I think you've had enough," Shisui looked at her apologetically, his smile shadowed by red lights.

Sakura glared at him. Half in fury and half in exhaustion. She brought her cup to her lips and sipped, "Are you closing up shop?"

"In an hour," he tilted his head at the clock above the bar. Red neon lights and white smoke hazy in the early hours of the morning.

"That late?" she blinked suddenly and then grimaced. She didn't mean to stay out for so long, she just wanted a drink without having to make it for herself. It sounded lazy, but to her, it made her seem pathetic. Wanting someone to take care of her, it sounded childish, but she craved companionship. Loneliness never settled, it becomes stagnant, a conscious reminder of emptiness.

"You've been here for five hours," Shisui said quietly, he wiped the counter with a damp rag and settled the alcohol bottles behind the shelf.

Sakura blinked again, "I must be really tired, I guess."

Shisui looked at her, but didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. She had always been a penchant for protocol, working in the hospital meant long, grueling hours and exhaustion. Tonight, or this morning, it was like her soul was tangible. Built deep in the crevices of her being, he could almost see a somber, dark cloud hung over her shoulders, as if she were in mourning.

Energy, intangible, riveted in black ribbons.

It felt disheartening.

"Work is okay?" he asked abruptly.

"It's fine," Sakura nodded, she squinted her eyes at the counter, "What about the bar?"

"Slow," he wrinkled his nose, "After midterms, I think it'll pick up."

"School okay?"

"It's fine," he smiled ruefully, "Part of me regrets going to law school. I should've stuck with public relations."

"Glam and attention was always your calling card."

Shisui rolled his eyes, "Cute, Sakura."

"I try," her grin looked like a cracked moon, lopsided and harsh, but genuine. She pulled out her credit card from her phone case, "Here, charge it."

"You picked up quite a tab," he warned her and brought it to his computer.

"Are you going to pay for me?"

"Did you forget that I am a poor law student?"

"Did you forget that I am a poor med student?"

He glared at her, "I was in the military."

"I dealt with your cousin," Sakura paused and then pressed a hand to her cheek, "For eight _years_."

Shisui stared at her, "Even?"

"Even," she nodded and signed her receipt, "Oh, it's not that bad."

"I've been filling up your cup to the brim," he noted.

"Nice to have a friend in here, yeah?" Sakura winked.

He placed the invoice in the register, "Flirting with the bartender, how original."

"You call that flirting?"

For a minute, he tried to assess the weight of her words. Looking over at her pink hair and red-rimmed eyes, he decided against the suggestive comment. Even if he were able to take her to bed, he wouldn't do it when she was emotionally compromised. Right now, she needed a friend and Shisui was in fact, a close friend. He rolled his weight to the back of his heel, "Aren't you tired?"

"A little," she shrugged, "It's kind of cold to sleep."

Shisui looked at her incredulously, "Sakura, you drank over a hundred dollars' worth of alcohol and you're _cold_?"

When Sakura smiled, it was like looking at broken glass. Cold and shattered. Emerald eyes like frost and lips red with cherry stains. Even in the early morning, clad in gray joggers and a tight white, long-sleeved, top, she still managed to look like she's been kissed voraciously, but sad enough to have you want to pick up the broken pieces.

"—closing in like ten, Sakura-san?" Itachi's voiced interrupted her vision.

And Shisui saw it.

He saw the heartbreak and the self-hate brewing deep on her face, her expression puckered and her eyes—eyes littered with anguish and sadness. Sakura had always been like a mirror. Reflective and clear. Tonight was different, it was like she was so many different pieces that Shisui wasn't sure if he knew where which fragment belonged.

It had seen it once—that look.

It was brief but it was there, it was there when Itachi had announced to his family – and by default Sasuke's friends – that he had asked Izumi to marry him.

It looked like someone snapped her in half.

And Shisui understood.

"Ah, Itachi-chan," Shisui gave a fake smile, "Do you mind closing up? I'm gonna take Sakura home."

Itachi blinked at the hostility bleeding into Shisui's face, he paused, "Are you sure? I don't mind—"

Shisui watched from the corner of his eye as Sakura's fist tightened into her sweats.

"—no," he shook his head, walking from behind the counter, his voice was firm, "I'll take her home."

Sakura looked at him warily.

But then Shisui took her tightly clenched hand, wrapped his hand around her fingers, stroked her knuckle knowingly and gave her a good squeeze.

"I'll take her home," Shisui said quietly.


End file.
